Child's Play (D.I. Kim Stone #11)(47)

Kim glanced at Bryant to see if her inclination to put her hands around the woman’s throat was an overreaction. The twitching muscle in his cheek said not.

‘Miss Evans, we know where your sister was going for a couple of days and we’re pretty sure you knew too.’

Veronica began to shake her head.

‘Don’t insult us, Miss Evans. You knew everything about your sister’s movements and plans. The two of you barely made a cup of tea without consulting the other. Please explain why you chose to withhold this information from us?’

If Veronica was surprised at her change in tone she didn’t show it as she continued to monitor the actions of the cleaners.

Kim continued, determined to get her point across. ‘You do realise that the harder you try to hide things from us the harder I’m going to dig. So, whatever you think—’

‘I told her not to go and I don’t see how it is any of your business, and I will tell you nothing that will help you drag up our past.’

‘As the police officers investigating this case we’ll make the call on what is our business, and as Belinda’s only known relative you might want to be a bit more helpful in finding her killer.’

Kim was about ten seconds away from cuffing her for obstruction.

‘You should be focussing on the sicko that lured her to the park to kill her instead of trying to rake up—’

‘What exactly?’ Kim asked.

‘Nothing, Inspector. Please continue with your questions.’

‘Why was she going to the event? What’s her interest?’

‘The same as always: to study. There is little more fascinating than the notion of an adult brain in a child’s body. She went to observe, interact, understand. That’s all I know,’ she said as the tension entered her jaw.

She was and would remain unapologetic for hiding this knowledge from them and any explosion from Kim was unlikely to change that.

‘Miss Evans, we’ve investigated your Skype call with the editor of the Telegraph and it appears to have ended much earlier than you told us.’

Veronica shrugged, unmoved.

‘I said that all books and magazines could go,’ she called out over Kim’s head.

One of the cleaners hesitated with a pile of books in her arms.

‘But the charity shops would—’

‘Skip,’ Veronica instructed, clearly wanting nothing of her sister left behind.

‘Miss Evans, where exactly were you on Monday night between 10.30 and 11 o’clock?’

And finally, Veronica turned towards her, face set and unyielding.

‘Detective Inspector Stone, you have not cautioned me, I have not been arrested and I refuse to answer that question. I would like you to leave now and if you refuse my request I will have no alternative but to make a formal complaint.’

‘Veronica, what the hell are you hiding from us?’ Kim asked, unable to hold her tongue.

The woman took out her mobile phone. ‘Please get out of this house and leave us in peace, immediately,’ she said, resolutely.

With no choice, Kim turned on her heel and headed out wondering why Veronica had used the word ‘us’.





Forty-Nine





Penn kept the woman waiting for a good twenty minutes before entering the room.

Both Lynne and Doug had tried to insist on accompanying him but he’d refused. Right now, he was at boiling point with the woman but she’d requested a private meeting and that’s what she’d get. As well as a piece of his mind if she carried on messing them around.

‘Mrs Nuryef,’ he said, coolly, as he took a seat.

He had no papers, no folders and no notepads.

She looked to the tape recorder against the wall.

He shook his head. ‘No point. Whatever you’ve got to tell me couldn’t be used in any evidential capacity. Not a jury in the land would believe a word you’ve got to say,’ he said honestly. ‘And if you want honesty, I’m not sure I would either.’

After her performance the previous day and her changing story she could admit to anything and a jury would shake their heads and dismiss her every word.

‘I lied,’ she whispered, laying her hands on the table.

‘Well, we know that, Mrs Nuryef. We’re just trying to work out which time,’ he said, coldly.

She nodded her understanding.

‘I know you’re angry because of what I said yesterday but I can’t tell these lies any more.’

Penn regarded her objectively. She looked tired; her hair was back to its straggly state. She wore no make-up at all. But her physical appearance wasn’t the biggest change. It was her eyes. For the first time, he saw fear.

‘Go on, Irina,’ he said. ‘Tell me what you’ve come here to say.’

She wrung her hands and swallowed deeply. ‘He was with me that night. My husband was definitely at home.’

Penn tried to keep the agitation out of his voice. ‘Why are you saying this?’

‘Because it’s true. And people are dying. My neighbour…’

‘Was murdered, Irina, and we don’t even know why. But how can I believe you now?’ he asked, frustrated. ‘And how do you explain the tee shirt in the shed, which we found after you changed your statement?’